Beyond Charms
by ForgottenLockbox
Summary: Very AU World. Lyllith Reese had been mentored privately for years, when suddenly the wizard insisted she attend formal schooling instead.  Now, she's stuck attending the Academy Mystica, and dealing with her bloodline secret. F/F WIP
1. Setting the Stage

In the **Academy Mystica:**

Year One- age 13; Year Two- 14; Year Three- age 15; Year Four- 16; Year Five- age 17; Year Six- 18; Year Seven- 19

House **Alicorn- **the optimistic, moral, companionable, and diligent. Those who's actions are ruled by their ethics.  
><strong>Totem-<strong> Unicorn **Colors- **Blue and Silver  
>((comparative to Hufflepuff, I suppose.))<p>

House **Featherfly- **for the witty, the analyst, the careful, the level-headed; one who is governed by their thoughts.  
><strong>Totem-<strong> Owl **Colors-** Brown and Gold  
>((comparative to Ravenclaw at most.))<p>

House **Lupinus- **for the individual, the loyal, the daring, the spirited; one who is governed by their emotions.  
><strong>Totem-<strong> Wolf **Colors-** Purple and Gold  
>((comparative to Gryffindor))<p>

House **Deachire- **the audacious, the provocative, the driven, the realist; one who is governed by their ambitions. Any means to an end, you might say.  
><strong>Totem-<strong> Cougar **Colors-** Red and Silver  
>((comparative to Slytherin))<p> 


	2. i

A girl, nearly a young woman, stood looking out at the bustling train station, her expression set in a mixture of annoyed boredom. Silky black hair hung long and low past her shoulders, straight down to her mid back, seeming to have nary a strand out of place. Her complexion, while not pale, was a lighter shade with the odd undertone that might have shimmered, if one looked close enough. Her apparently dark eyes narrowed just slightly at the muggles that crowded this way and that.

"Master L'Fidèle, I beg you reconsider." Her voice was smooth, the words carrying a slight accent that was neither British nor French; her tone not truly betraying the nerves he knew were humming through her slight body. He chuckled lowly, and those intense eyes moved slowly to him, annoyance overtaking the boredom in her expression. "This is madness."

"It truly is not." Unlike the girl, L'Fidèle's voice bore a distinctly French accent, and his lips continued to curl in a smile. "I can take you no further, mon petit cher. You are in need of true Masters, oui, not some poor fool barely versed in Shadows enough for your grand-father to approve of."

"Phegh!" A few sounds followed that flowed and nearly sang, the syllables meeting to form words that no Muggle nearby, at least, would understand. The man himself didn't seem to entirely follow, but then, he had only ever been given the briefest of lessons in that language, in particular. "This as nothing to do with Grandfather."

"True. However, the school is your next step, your next path. I insist, and this is no longer to be discussed." His tone hardened, just a bit, and the boredom re-entered her expression. He knew well enough that the semblance of boredom and disinterest was her way of masking her emotions. Just as likely as her obvious displeasure with being sent off was that she was hurt by his insistence. "Have you everything for your potions, and your new Potions Master."

"Mentor." She idly corrected, but jerked her head in a stiff nod. "And the books and wand." Her lips twisted oddly at that, and he smirked. Was she disappointed with that artifact? And which of the several possible reasons would be behind that? "Must I bring the… animal?"

"She can at least guard your possessions in the dormitory, non?" He smirked again, then gestured at the bustling crowd. "Off we go."

She sighed heavily, dramatically, and stooped to pick up her more personal possessions, as well as the carrying case for the feline. He'd insisted on that, for whatever reason she refused to hear out, and the cat made an odd rowl noise as she strode through the London transit crowd. He followed behind her with that same smirk, pushing the trolly that bore her trunk and other possessions with him. By the time it had finally all gotten carted through the crowd, to the correct and hidden platform, and stowed in a rear car of the train, she wouldn't even look at him.

"Lyllith…" He began, hoping beyond the knowledge that she was likely too upset with him to respond, that she'd at least look at him. "Mon cher…"

"I will see you at the Holidays." She answered softly instead, nodding, and he sighed. He stood there, watching sadly, as the train was filled, and then finally as it began to putter away. He didn't see her staring out of her window just as intently, watching as the gangly, gaunt little man disappeared into the distance.

More than once, during the day-long ride, a face poked its way into view in her compartment-door window, peering at her cautiously. She was too old to be a first-year, yet none of them knew her. She was grateful that none of the curious fools attempted to introduce themselves, though that might have had something to do with the locking hex she'd placed upon the knob for privacy. It was with private humiliation that she did have to walk with the timid first-years when they had finally arrived. She stood apart from all of them, taller than all but one or two, ignoring the curious whispers.

Lyllith was not entirely surprised that she was the only one who had bothered to handle some of her own luggage. The rest of them seemed to only be carrying their wands, uniforms and robes smartly arranged about them. Nevertheless, her carrying bag hung from one hand, its leather warm against her palm, tightly closed and locked against prying eyes. She had bothered to don her robe, though it wasn't closed and she wore her normal, Muggle clothes beneath it instead of the uniform. Let them lecture on proper attire if they wished; she didn't much care.

The Great Hall was, admittedly, astonishing. She hadn't expected it to be quite so large, or nearly so impressive. This did not show on her expression, however, with a bored sigh, she merely quirked her eyebrow at the enormity of the place, and trailed smoothly after the gaping youngsters. She paid no attention to the warnings and instructions given, instead choosing to shift her new wand to the arm-holster she had strapped at her wrist, instead of the dingy box it had come in. So expensive it had seemed, for such shod packaging.

Finally, they were instructed into a single line by the stern-looking witch that had taken command of them, Lyllith trailing at the very end, and led into the dining hall. Equally as large as the Great Hall, if not larger, it was distinctly more impressive. Four tables, likely for the school houses, took up the majority of the space, students of varying ages crowding them and watching the first-years eagerly. A fifth table sat on a slightly raised platform at the head of the room, the line of adults behind it making it obvious that the staff dined there. There was a soft, warm light illuminating the hall, which seemed to come from the floating lights and flickering bits of flame that seemed to dance well above the gathered heads. Gaudily adorned tapestries billowed on the walls, and she noticed that some of the movements seemed to increase with the hushed whispers of the first-years taking note of them. Enchanted, obviously, with the pride of the houses they represented.

She paid little attention to the speech made, or the instructions given again, as the stern witch addressed the crowd, and then the new students. Instead she observed what would be her peers until she had managed to convince Master L'Fidèle to withdraw her from this damned place. When the first of the new students had been called to a single, lonely stool at the front, however, she let her eyes lazily drift over the procedure. Oddly enough, that stern witch threw what looked like an entire pouch of glittering sand or dust on the poor boy, ignoring the flinch he gave.

It settled into place, seemingly innocuous, and Lyllith held back a sneer. If this was some sort of hazing that even the instructors took part in, she would simply leave of her own power, never mind her old mentor's insistence. Then, of course, the witch flicked her wand, and the glittering powder she had thrown rose into the air, clouding oddly around the still startled boy. It swirled and swayed, but remained around the obviously frightened first-year, not drifting away with the hint of a breeze she could occasionally feel pass through the drafty castle. Finally, however, the dust flashed brightly, and turned a particular color, even able to be seen at the rear of the hall. One of the tables erupted in cheers, and as the dusty powder settled again, color gone and not a hint of it on the boy, another name was called.

This occurred several more times, Lyllith watching skeptically as the spell was cast again and again. No new dust had to be thrown, luckily, though sometimes it would take moments at a time to settle into one particular color. Other times almost as soon as it had risen into the air it would flash brightly and label the poor student with a house. She thought it rather segregating.

"As some of you may have noticed, we have more than just the first years as new students this term." The stern which announced, and Lyllith began to walk up the length of the hall without the needs for a summons. "Student Lyllith Reese comes to us from a private mentor, and alumni of Academy Mystica. Though her class arrangement will reflect this training as an apprentice, and we ask you not to pester her in regards to lessons, she is to be classified as a fourth year."

Lyllith drew to a stop next to the woman, ignoring the stares and whispers of the entire crowd of students, and silently took her seat at the stool when bade. Another flick of the wand, and the cloud of shimmering dust rose again. She was a little surprised that it seemed to obscure her view of the hall, and muffled the sound of the murmuring students. She ignored the pull and twist of the shimmering powder, and pretended not to hear the occasional hiss of a query or statement from its cloudy depths. When it finally seemed as if it had been longer than the other decisions made, she sighed, and folded one leg over the other, drawing her carrying bag into her lap, ignoring the flash of light and watching in annoyance as two colors flickered rapidly through the shimmering dust for several moments.

At long last, when she'd almost been ready to growl out at the odd enchantment or charm, whichever it was that had bewitched the powder, it seemed to settle on one particular color, though it almost seemed reluctant from her point of view within. It took another long moment, as if the powder was hesitating to accept its own decision, before it finally fell to the ground so rapidly she thought the stuff might be disgusted with itself. Reluctant cheers and clapping was sounding out from the students, and the witch was looking at her strangely. Ignoring it all, she simply slid smoothly from her seat on the stool, striding silently toward an empty seat at the table the dratted powder had indicated. Deachire.

_**TBC**_


	3. ii

She assured that her carry bag was nestled securely between her feet before settling to the feast, doing her best to ignore the other students around her. She didn't feel particularly social at the best of times, and this certainly wouldn't be what she considered among the best. The people around her all seemed to be excited to be back at the school, many curious eyes peering down the table at her, though the haughty sneers of a nearby blonde boy seemed to keep their questions and pestering at bay. She might have been grateful, had he not turned that sharp nose and chin in her direction and offered a lewd, sinister smile. She was no stranger to the dark street of London's premier wizard shopping area, and had seen plenty more frightening than the snooty blonde, but the gaze that he sent up and down what he could see of her body made her skin crawl. Perhaps she should have conversed with the stupid powder.

Despite the sickening looks of the arrogant snit nearby, the burning curiosity and nosiness of the rest of the students who took any notice of her, and the fate of being suck at the damnable school instead of learning directly under Master L'Fidèle, dinner was not terrible. The feast that spread the table was utterly fantastic, fresh, and contained a delicious variety she had not seen elsewhere. Though she did not eat as primly as the creepy blonde boy, or wolf her food down as some of the others nearby seemed to be doing, she eat slowly, neatly, and had her fill. Dessert was just as astounding, and ignoring the occasional snobbish titter from her peers, or prying question, she managed to get to the Deachire dorms without much fuss.

"_You_ saw… _Mallevan_ was looking at her like a prize git." One of the other girls tittered. "What do you bet her family's old blood too."

She ignored the sniggers of the other five girls in her dorm, instead snapping her wand at the bunk beds that they were to make do with. A simple hex split the top bunk from the bottom, and though she privately struggled with the control of the spell, she managed to levitate that bit off and to the floor. By that point, the others had silenced, and were simply watching in shock. Contemplating the two bed pieces, she chose the one that still contained the posts that had once held the second bed, and performed another levitation charm. It was an effort, but L'Fidèle had forced her to master that charm in particular, beyond the others she'd needed to know under his tutelage. At last the chosen bed, and and her trunk, had been moved to one wall, out of the way of the others, though the bunk being separated as it was did make the room a bit more cramped.

"You can't _do_ that." One of the girls finally snapped, her tone nasal and doing nothing to make Lyllith want to listen any further.

"Obviously, I already have." She drawled, the first words she'd spoken since entering the castle. It seemed to give the snobby girls pause, and she turned to level them with a dark glare. "This castle obviously contains more than enough room, and rooms, to house everyone and everything within. It is no fault of mine that the head of this… house… does not deign to assign enough of them as dorms for us. I do not sleep above, below, or directly adjacent, to anyone… especially any of you. If you insist on staring, you may do so, as I care not a bit about how you spend your time lest it interferes with my own." Silently, she spun again, and proceeded to bewitch, hex, and curse the various bits of supply and furniture that comprised of her tiny area of the room. When she had done, her bed was near glowing with the magic she'd cast on it, slowly fading into looking like an ordinary bunk once more. With a flick and incantation, she set a spare change of sheets to blocking off the bed and bunk, and transfigured them to silky gray curtains. The other girls continued to stare.

"I thought you were a fourth year, like us." One of them sneered behind her, a steadier, angrier voice than the first. Initially, Lyllith did not respond, and only when she heard the other girl clear her throat did she turn to trade glares.

"I distinctly remember that severe looking woman instructing that it was no business, or query, of the other students about what my lesson levels were." She sneered at the girls, then turned and disappeared behind her curtains.

* * *

><p>She'd learned that first night that the creepy blonde boy was apparently named Mallevan. The next day, however, as class schedules were distributed to the students at breakfast, she learned that his full name was Dylan Herron Mallevan, and that he was the heir of the Mallevan pureblood family. She ignored most of the remainder of his babble, groaning as she realized that two of her class blocks matched his. He droned on, at length, and the bits she caught seemed to be the same blather about the purity of his blood, the wealth of his family, or his supposed prowess with magic and Quiddich. She heard him continuing in that vein even as she pushed away from the table and moved off to her first class of the day, apparently not having noticed her leaving at first.<p>

"Lyllith!" His surprised, arrogant tone made her bored expression briefly slide into a sneer, and she continued walking. "Lyllith where are you going?" A long breath left her lips, and she continued to ignore him. "Fourth year Deachires have history in the same dungeon corridor as my potions class." He'd caught up, and was leering at her. "Skipping first day are you? You'll lose the house points."

"I haven't fourth year History for this block." She drawled at him finally as he continued trotting next to her, still with that leering smile. If he thought it foolish enough to skip and lose house points enough to warn her about it, why was he continuing along with her instead of going to his own class. He was grinning more broadly at her words though.

"Your voice is as lovely as you are, dear." Dylan swept around to stand in front of her. "Is that a Romanian accent? What class have you?"

"No, it is not Romanian." She replied in annoyance, slipping around him as he watched her intently. "Go away, Mallevan."

He did leave, to her relief, though only for the morning. When the lunch hour came, he was once again seated directly next to her, though silent this time. "Lyllith, Zerrod Feklin claims that you were in his first block class." Silent for a few moments at least. She ignored him again, casually sliding several slices of roast beef to her plate. "Perhaps you did not notice your housemate there… were you in Advanced Herbology II this morning?"

She let out a sigh and turned to slowly look at him. "Yes. Please go away." Her tone was less than polite, and she turned again to her food, hoping that his curiosity had been assuaged. Her confirmation only seemed to excite him more, and whispers took over what had been an oddly silent section of the Deachire table.

"I must admit that I have never heard of the Reese bloodline before, though they must be a powerful family where you are from." Her cheek twitched, and breathing out slowly to keep calm, she felt her grip tighten on her fork. "You've certainly the lovely features of a pureblood, and no Mudbl…"

"You will be silent, Mallevan. You know nothing of my family." Her sneering tone silenced the whispers nearby, and several people eagerly looked on for his response. Two particularly burly boys looked a little confused as to what they were supposed to do with her talking back to the annoying blonde boy like that.

"Oh, I was not insulting them, Lyllith dear. Few pureblood families indeed could afford a mentor and tutor of a level to make you on par to Advanced Herbology II in your fourth year, and fewer still could attain the private mentorship permits from the Ministry." He smiled broadly. "I'm sure my father has at least met someone of your line."

"Doubtful," she snarled, cutting angrily into a large, dark roll before stuffing as much of her roast beef slices into the slit, as well as some glazed carrots, and standing. "I will be as clear as possible, and speak slowly in the hope that your feeble, inbred brain can understand: Leave me alone, Dyllan Mallevan."

She found that her request was either not understood or, more likely, ignored. After their brief discussion of just which class she'd had first in the morning, the Deachire students within her next seemed confused with her presence. It was with an annoyed huff that she found herself seated between Dylan and some boy from that Featherfly house they were sharing the class with. The Featherfly boy looked at her in somewhat fearful curiosity before turning his studious attention back to the front; Dylan, however, leaned uncomfortably close. "Lyllith, this is a third year class."

"I'm sure she's aware of that M- Mallevan." The Featherfly said, stammering at the end as he caught Dylan's glare. She refrained from looking at either of them. "Don't you even _think_?"

"What exactly is that supposed to mean, Jefferson?" Dylan snarled, his tone low as the ghost that taught the class hovered in.

"She was under a _private mentor_. Her knowledge and scores will be scattered in skill level according to what he was good at." Jefferson hissed, trying not to look at Dylan. The moment he did, he began stammering again. "It's o-o-obvi-vi-ous."

"Shut it, bookworm." The blonde boy snapped, and she saw the Featherfly wince out of the corner of her eye. The ghost was beginning to drone on about some goblin war or another, and she glanced at the dusty, old tome that stood as the class's assigned text. If she were better at charms, she'd set one to transcribing the boring lecture and ignore the old book, but she had a feeling that it would become necessary if she was bored to sleep, or pestered by Mallevan, through every lesson. "Is that true, Lyllith darling? Your mentor was just particularly good at Herbology? That Lupinus bumbler Bobblynook is good at Herbology, and he's nothing more than a fool."

Lyllith's jaw tightened, but she didn't say anything. Likely, if she let her say something, she'd end up hexing the idiot. Jean L'Fidèle was nothing near being a fool. Perhaps sometimes foolish, but not actually a fool. He was one of the most brilliant potions wizards she had ever met, and skill with Herbology had helped not only him with that, but herself as well. "Five points from Deachire for chattering." Moaned the ghostly instructor, and Dylan growled, sinking in his seat.

"D-do you n-need to b-be directed to your n-next class?" Jefferson stammered, staring wide eyed at her as Dylan fixed a few stray hairs that had fallen askew as he dozed through the lecture. Lyllith ignored both of them as she settled the heavy tome into her carry bag, grateful for the space enhancing charm Master L'Fidèle had set on it when she had been accepted to the academy.

Finally, stood with the bag's strap over her shoulder, she turned a barely cold look on the stammering boy. He wasn't so terrible, beyond being rather a coward, though the flinch he gave when her eyes settled on him only proved to make him a bit more annoying than before. "No. I know the location of the Potions chambers very well, thank-you." She paused, and then sighed. "You labeled the date of the last battle wrong twice in your notes. Fourty-five, not fifty-four."

As she spun to stalk away, she saw the stunned, and even more frightened, look on the boy's face left behind with a smirking blonde brat. "Tha-tha-tha…"

"That _what_, Jefferson. You're a bloody coward, you know." Dylan snapped.

"My brother is in Potions next." Jefferson finally squeaked. She didn't slow her walk long enough to know if Dylan knew who the boy's brother was, or what that meant. This was the only class she had looked forward to since entering the damned school. Evan Master L'Fidèle sang Professor Kine's praises as a potions genius. They'd met with him twice over the summer holiday, to test her knowledge and assure her a place in his classes. Professor Kine would be the only familiar face at this stupid Academy, and his prowess almost made it worth leaving the home and teaching that had been a comfort to her over so many years.

"Master Kine." She bowed upon entering the chamber, unable to keep the hint of a smile from her lips. The tall, pale man smirked at her, stringy hair hanging loosely around his face, hooked nose and beady eyes standing out against the pallid color of his skin. It was reminiscent of too long spent in dungeons, and not enough time outside. "Where would you please that I sit?"

"The front corner if you would, Miss Reese." His smirk did not leave, and she privately hoped that it was because he already favored her. "I was proud to see that the sorting powder settled you within my House, Miss Reese. It looked for several moments as if you would be placed in… _Lupinus_."

The distaste in his tone was obvious, and she decided against commenting, simply offering what was supposed to be a shy smile in return. It was an expression unfamiliar to her face, at least when she was attempting to put it there, and she could tell that he knew it was forced. Turning to her carrying bag, she fetched a brown paper wrapped parcel from within, settling it onto the desk near where he could reach it. "Professor Rhoote asked I deliver a sample of the needle vine sap we collected today."

"Ah yes, there was mention that you were attending that class as well." He droned, picking up the parcel and looking at it thoughtfully. "Did she say whose collections this sample came from?"

"Yes, sir. Her own, mine, a Featherfly named Volas, and a Deachire named Zerit." She nodded and watched as a single, black brow arched high on his forehead.

"She included her own sample?" He asked finally, watching the girl oddly.

"Yes sir. There was not another pure one from our lesson. The others were clouded with the excretions of the exterior of the vines." She moved to begin setting up her cauldron and scales, debating between the pewter, copper, and bone. "Which cauldron will I be needing today, sir?"

"We only use pewter and copper in this class." Kine offered without sounding much concerned, settling the package on a shelf without opening it, and ignoring the other students scurrying in and to their seats. Several of the older teens stared at her in fascination, though none dared to interrupt the Professor as he spoke to her. "The Academy has a policy against teaching any potions which specifically require the use of a bone or ivory cauldron."

"Veritaserum requires that, though, sir." She said in a quiet tone. Obviously not quiet enough, as murmurs began from the other students. Kine smiled proudly at her.

"As you are attending this class years early, Miss Reese, if you are capable of _passing_, I am able to attain permission to instruct you, privately, off grounds during your sixth and seventh years." He paused, then looked idly around before leaning against his desk and addressing her again. Class was supposed to have started by then, but she supposed that he was enjoying taunting the other students. "Are you already capable of creating Veritaserum, Miss Reese."

"Yes sir, though I would not trust it to not be disturbed by my dorm mates were I to attempt it here." She performed an extra Scourgify on her pewter cauldron, seeing that the others had settled theirs on the desks, instead of copper.

"Fifty points to Deachire. Twenty-five for Miss Reese's diligence in extra study, twenty-five for her proper preparation and care of her tools." Here he glanced sternly out at the others, who promptly began to Scourgify their cauldrons, check the balance of their scales, and putter with their tools. "If you would be capable of notifying me of any advanced level potions you were brewing, I can assign a private chamber to you for study and homework, Miss Reese." She nodded eagerly, completely forgetting all semblance of dignity at the prospect of _Professor Kine_ allowing her a private potions chamber to work in. "The same goes to any Advanced level student that is capable of proving themselves proficient enough to work without supervision." It would have hurt that slight sense of pride she had gotten from his offer, had he not sounded blatantly skeptical that they could achieve such a feat.

The class went well, especially when she realized that she was the only student with a copper cauldron, and earned another proud smile and selection of house points for pulling it out once he described the properties of the potion they were to work on, and listed the ingredients. Two of the students exited barely in front of her, their uniform ties in the house colors of Lupinus and Featherfly, Professor Kine sneering at the both of them as they gossiped while leaving. "Bugger it's just not fair. He's favoring her just because she's in Deachire. Twenty-five points for cleaning her cauldron! And that simpering grin he gave her over her second cauldron!"

"Favoring her? He bloody well should!" The Featherfly exclaimed, slapping the whining boy across the shoulder merrily. "Did you _see_ her potion? It was _perfect_! Absolutely, bloody, perfect! I'm writing home for a copper cauldron, and spending the dinner meal looking up the suggested parameters for each cauldron type. Did you hear him, Mike? Bone! There are potions that require cauldrons made from bone!"

"Or ivory. Bone cauldrons sound like dark magic." She could hear Mike's nose wrinkle in his voice, and shook her head.

"Ivory is a type of bone, you nit. Fancy bone… or close enough at least. I wonder why the academy doesn't let him teach that on school grounds?" She silently trailed them, noting that they were heading toward the meal hall.

"Because it's probably dark magic." Mike insisted. "They're made of _bone_, Finks. _Bone_."

"Oh, we've powdered up enough bone and used it as ingredient enough for you to be over that by now. No one said it had to be human bone the cauldron was made of." Finks laughed, slapping him on the shoulder again. "And Veritaserum. You _know_ that's not dark magic. That… that kid knows how to make it too! Blimey I wonder why she isn't in my house."

"Because she uses bone cauldrons." Mike pouted, and she sighed, hanging back a bit. Nothing about the Professor, or any mention of how to get new supplies or tools directly to school, instead of 'writing home' about it.

_**TBC**_


	4. iii

**_Well, she finished the next bit, and is working on what comes after, so here's the semi-edited, short update._**

* * *

><p>Getting away had been necessary. She didn't think she could have stood for another moment in those damn commons. Half of the group there was being loud and obnoxious, gaming or gossiping, the other half muttering anxiously over their schoolwork. Dylan had been particularly persistent over the past few days. Apparently, his displeasure with her having third year classes had dimmed with the knowledge that she shared both with him, and was also in several classes above her year. She didn't much care what his opinion of her was, beyond wanting him to leave her alone. It was annoying enough to have to be there, among the hormonal teenagers and drafty hallways, without him deciding that he fancied her.<p>

She'd taken the opportunity to knick her broom from the shed. Being in the air reminded her of home, of her first flying lessons with Master L'Fidèle, and family. It had really only been intended to be a brief rest on one of the turrets of the school, indulging in memories of a different forested setting, and the sound of wings in the air; instead, she found herself lost in thought long enough to be found. The sound of feet alighting on the shingles behind her, tapping down lightly as the intruder landed from his own broom, made her jaw clench with irritation. Either she was about to be lectured on school rules by some professor that had been patrolling, or someone was going to attempt to be social.

"You know, Lovely, flying unsupervised is prohibited… and this is a restricted tower." His lazy tone was anything but reproachful, and it made her wish that it was a professor that had found her.

"Go _away_ Mallevan." She hissed, barely noticing, as he took an overly-cautious seat next to her, that he seemed to be in Quiddich robes and armor. She noticed him opening his mouth to speak again, a smug look on his face, and slid off of her place on the turret, swinging her broom around easily to fly away.

On the broad expanse of grass that spread between the lake, castle, and forest students of varying ages were enjoying their day off of classes. The first flash of tie color that was not scarlet was what she aimed for, and it was at a walking dismount that she landed, trotting quickly toward, and then past, the three students with purple-and-gold ties. It didn't much matter what house they were in, she couldn't remember which house colors those were, so long as they weren't from Deachire. The annoying boy had too much influence over their housemates for whatever reason.

The thud of his landing behind her showed that he apparently hadn't given up, nor did the curious gazes of the three others deter him. "Lilly…"

That one word had her stopping in her tracks to spin and point a hastily drawn wand at him. "I have put up with your incessant nagging, your sneering and inappropriate suggestions, and your following me about like a potion-bound fool… but should you dare to call me that again, Darkblood, I will replace your mouth with your arse and your arse with your mouth. Understood?"

One of the three spectators was beginning to stand, and Dylan appeared startled by the sincerity of the threat he heard in her voice and saw in her glare. However, before the nosy fool attempting to interfere could comment, the blonde boy's lips lifted into an impressed, disgusting smile, and he moved off on his own broom. She ignored the stunned, if alarmed, look on the half-standing boy's face, and continued to glare off at Dylan's retreating form. Abruptly her angry contemplation was interrupted by clapping.

Lyllith's features schooled themselves into bored annoyance once more, and she turned her cold gaze on the clapping redhead, who was either unintimidated by her glare or too impressed by the performance. The bushy-haired girl next to him was watching in awe too, and she tore her gaze away from the three of them. She should have thought this through better… they would either pester her now, or she would have to hear about it from her Head of House as punishment. She didn't mind the house losing points for whatever the contest seemed to be, but displeasing the only Professor there that she actually liked was not her best move.

"Wait!" As she strode away, hoping that if they either did not recognize her, or did not find out her name, they would be unable to report her. "Wait, you're Lyllith Reese, right?" She slowly saw both the prospect of escaping punishment and the free afternoon slipping away, and tried to pretend she hadn't heard the soft, feminine voice. "I know that you can hear me. We have Charms together and you speak fluent English."

A sigh escaped Lyllith's lips slowly, and she drew to a reluctant halt, closing her eyes briefly as the three of them nearly piled around her like eager puppies. She didn't dare to look at any of them. "Yes, I am. Did you have a reason to stop me?"

"That was an impressive display." The red-haired boy said before the girl could answer, and Lyllith held back a sneer at the awe in his voice. "I can't believe you called 'im a _Darkblood_."

"I was wondering if you actually know how to perform that curse." The girl said when the boy had finally quieted to stare blatantly at Lyllith. "It's quite advanced, and I'd love to discuss magical theory with you if you do… but what, exactly, is a Darkblood?"

"Bloody hell, Arista, don't you know anything?" The redhead snapped, still in awe. The look she gave him made it quite obvious that it was usually the other way around that the question could be asked. "It's like… like…" he looked around, and whispered the next word, face looking apologetic and hand reaching for her shoulder as he said it, "_Mudblood_…" he licked his lips, hand falling short of actually resting on the girl's shoulder, "but for purebloods. Like… um… calling them all the nasty things that dark wizards and inbreeding can combine."

"Oh. I rather like that." Her tone was cheerful and bright, and she smiled happily at Lyllith. "I think I'll have to use that the next time he calls me a Mudblood, thank-you. So… can you perform that curse really?"

"Of course she can." The third one finally spoke, his tone sounding sulky and juvenile, and Lyllith debated simply flying away from them. Perhaps if she satisfied their curiosity enough, though, they wouldn't tattle on her and the idiot Mallevan boy… or just on Mallevan. "She's in Deachire, isn't she?"

"Oh, she can't be all that bad. She told off Dylan, didn't she?" The red-haired boy retorted. "I think she's bloody brilliant."

"Yes, I can perform the curse. I never claim to be able to curse someone with something that I cannot deliver on. Making threats you are not capable of performing is a very dangerous business." Lyllith finally answered, and turned to look the sulky boy over. He didn't seem like much: gangly and a bit short, with wildly mussed dark hair, an old-fashioned set of glasses, and the hint of a darkened curse-scar on his forehead. "As is making assumptions based on very little information."

"Don't mind him, please. We don't generally make a habit of consorting with most Deachires. Some of them can be a bit…" the girl paused, glancing significantly in the direction Dylan had flown, "rude."

Lyllith found that she couldn't help smiling slightly at the girl at that comment, and glancing significantly at the other two, decided to make herself comfortable. With the slightest of nods to them, she folded to the ground, resting her broom next to her, and quirked a brow when only the girl joined her initially. The red haired boy fidgeted for a full moment before finally taking a seat and looking at her nervously, and the dark haired gloomy one stood looming with his shadow across them for a bit longer before sighing dramatically and sitting as well. "That is an understatement. He is an arrogant braggart and an arse."

"Erm, right…" The skeptical, annoyed tone of the sulky boy growled, and she heard him shuffle to a seat where he could observe her interaction with his friends, but not be too easy to draw into conversation. It seemed rude, really, to place himself in such difficult position to even be seen, much less spoken to easily. "You know flying without permission and outside of the pitch is against the rules, aye?"

"No… I thought they were putting me on when they told me that… three times…" She said in a serious tone, and craned herself around to give him an arch look. He was still scowling at her. "It allows me time alone, even if briefly. I do not fear punishment for such freedom."

"I'd imagine the press of the school is a bit much after training one-on-one for so long…" the bushy-haired girl said, resting a sympathetic hand on Lyllith's shoulder. She did her best not to flinch away from the sudden, and mostly unwelcome, contact. Her expression did not waver, and she remained looking bored, and slightly annoyed, as the other three just watched her. Finally, the hand left her shoulder, and the other girl's expression turned curious, if slightly mischievous. "So what was it like?"

Lovely, she was probably stuck with them being curious until she'd either offended them, or managed to escape. Gaze traveling over the curious girl, Lyllith let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. "It is different. With a mentor, a single instructing master, one always moves at one's own pace. You are neither impeded, nor rushed, by other students around you. Our times studying were, also, not as rigid, or confined to terms and seasons." She paused and allowed herself to briefly meet the curious eyes. "However, it is a benefit, here, to learn each subject from a Master of its work. With a single mentor, you are bound by the skill level that mentor possesses, and what can be gleaned through independent study. Master L'Fidèle was a brilliant man, but there are areas that he was… lacking… in."

"Like Charms?" the redheaded boy blurted, and she narrowed her eyes at him, making him blush to match his hair. "B- because you're a fourth year, but in Charms with us?"

"Such as Astrology, and History." Lyllith corrected instead, completely ignoring any reference to her weakness with Charms. Jean L'Fidèle was neither gifted, nor deficient in Charms work, and she had been studying magic with him for years longer than these three had been in school. She knew her weaknesses, however.

"Bloody History…" the redhead grumbled, and Lyllith held back a smirk, turning just enough to note the girl's reaction.

"So what classes are you in?" gloomy-boy asked, nudging the redhead with his foot, and sounding as annoyed as she always appeared to be.

She was silent for a moment, debating on hexing him for his nosiness. The stern-looking witch had made it clear on that first night, that her schedule was not gossip material. Nevertheless, she'd allowed herself to be partially open with them so far, he likely thought it was alright to ask. "Among other things, I attend Advanced Potions and Herbology, as well as Shadowmancy. My other courses are among the mandatory lessons you will be taking in the next years."

The redhead and gloomy boy didn't seem all that impressed, obviously not having caught what she meant by that, but the bushy-haired girl was staring at her blatantly. "Those are fifth year or higher." The girl stammered, finally.

"No, my Defense class is fifth year. Herbology and Potions are sixth. I shall have to attend an independent study with Master Kine after next year." She almost blushed under the awed look on the girl's face; it was much more flattering than Dylan's arrogant posturing. "It is only through necessity for potions that I am so far advanced in Herbology."

"Innit Shadowmancy being able to transfigure shadows and stuff?" The redhead finally caught on. "I thought that was an OWLS level course."

"It is." The other girl stated, eyes bright as she stared at Lyllith. "I… you're… you're in sixth year classes." She shook her head, breathing out deeply in an astonished breath.

"Blimey, and I thought Arista was smart." The redhead blurted, only to be shoved by the gloomy-boy's foot again. "Wotcher, Jarek."

"Jarek… Colby, I assume?" Lyllith sighed, glancing over her shoulder at him. He smiled bashfully, the gloomy, pouting air he'd had about him disappearing until he noticed she looked distinctly unimpressed.

"Yeah, he's Jarek Colby." The redhead smiled goofily, and stuck out a hand to her. "I'm Wesley Sumner, but everyone calls me Wes. Bloody _brilliant_ to meet you, especially after how you told off Dylan." She arched an eyebrow high, sneering at the hand, and made it very clear she was not going to take it. Reluctantly, he retracted the arm, fidgeting in place. "That's… erm… that's Arista over there. She's top in our year."

The girl was still watching her, a bit pink with embarrassment, stunned. Lyllith kept her brow arched, but smirked slightly at the girl. A muggleborn, if what the girl referenced earlier was any clue, being the top score in third year… that must twist that annoying Mallevan's knickers no end. "And to clarify, transfiguring shadows is not the only magic done with them in Shadowmancy. The magical control and use of shadows, and Shades, extends beyond such. There are shadow hexes and curses, as well as other things. In the far distant past, it began as a combination of Charms and Transfiguration in an effort to transfigure something that had no physical body."

The girl, Arista, seemed to flush an even brighter red as Lyllith finished explaining, and she couldn't help the smirk that remained, or the light wink that only the girl could see from the angle. They were silent for several moments, as the boys took in the information, as well as the fact that Arista had apparently not known all about it. Finally, after the awkward quiet had passed, she heard the boy behind her clear his throat. "You… erm… fly well too." Without turning, so he didn't see, she rolled her eyes. "You going to try for your house's Quiddich team?"

"No." Her answer was short and curt, cutting off any ideas of asking her more about the ridiculous sport. Really, why anyone voluntarily made themselves the targets of speeding, dangerous, hard spheres was beyond her. The little golden thing and the scoring ball she didn't much mind, but those Bludger things seemed pointlessly painful to her, at least with a long drop to the ground following the impact.

"You probably wouldn't like it, being in Deachire… if you don't like Dylan." Wes offered, and she didn't bother to look at him. The statement that followed was obvious. "He's on their team." She made a half-hearted noise to indicate she'd heard him, obvious though that had been from Dylan's attire. "His daddy bought his way on… the brooms." She made the noise again, though the information was slowly circulating in her mind. Mallevan and brooms together seemed familiar. "His family… erm… owns… the Silver Comet broom line…"

Ah. That was it. She didn't even bother to acknowledge the boy had spoken that time, instead letting the information file away for another date. Her own broom was a Thunderbolt; a bit less expensive, and more temperamental, than the comets, but faster if you could keep them under control. The redhead mumbled something more, but it wasn't even intelligible this time, and she let out a breath before leveling her annoyed gaze on him. He blushed and fidgeted again, shifting away from her slightly. With another sigh, as silence lingered again, Lyllith stood, taking her broom with her. Arista stared up at her with a light blush, though Wes kept his eyes turned away still. Lyllith bothered to give the girl a nod of farewell before walking away, completely ignoring the two boys. If she stuck around much longer, she'd likely be subjected to more inane babble, or questions about her past and studies.

**_ TBC_**


End file.
